


Pilot Program

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Series: Memory Wipe [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Amnesia, Art, Fanfic Award Winning Story, Gen, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amnesiac pilot Del Tarrant meets amnesiac weapons' designer Dayna Mellanby. When you live in a galactic dictatorship, you tend to be suspicious of coincidence... what you don't know can kill you.</p><p>(Edited to add a piece of art I'd done on ORmAC back in the bitmap days of yore.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot Program

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this nearly 20 years ago. *whew* In the days of paper zines when (if you were lucky) you might 4 years after writing a fic get a single comment about it in a Letter of Comment page in the following issue after your story eventually got published when a zine filled up/the editor scrounged enough money to pay for the printing/etc. 
> 
> And YES, we walked uphill in the snow BOTH WAYS to get to the copy shop! Even if you lived in South Florida!
> 
> Anyway, while looking through old stuff, I came across my 3 fan awards and decided to post the stories that won them. 'Divide and Conquer or Plan 9 from Andromeda' was already on AO3, but the other two needed to be completely reformatted. Have finished this one, hope to get the other done later. The award is at the end of the story.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

The alarm rang, shrill and demanding. Tarrant yanked his pillow down over his head, trying to recapture his dream. Its programmed ten second scream performed, the alarm ended, but it had served its function. Tarrant was wide awake, in no danger of falling back to sleep. Reluctantly, he got out of bed, giving up on the dream to prepare himself for the real world.

"It doesn't matter. Let it go," he muttered to the image in his mirror as he combed his curly locks free of tangles. Showered, shaved, and scented with his favorite cologne, he felt his spirits rise to their usual high level. "That's better," he told his reflection, "you can't afford to give people doubts about you. Not now, not with Vindicator's crew selection still up in the air. Of course, I am the best pilot they have, but ..." Even to himself, Tarrant refused to acknowledge his worries about his mental health. The doctors said he was perfectly stable and well-adjusted, but they didn't have to live with amnesia.

Since joining the program, he'd had no problems, but he couldn't help wondering what he'd been up to during the two years prior. Except for his dreams filled with tantalizing hints of people and places that were not in his official file, those two years did not exist. He had other gaps in his memory, but none bothered him so much as that two year span of nothingness.

Tarrant shook his head, and with a deliberate act of will, dispelled the last of the dream-induced melancholy. Today an expert was coming in to consult on Vindicator's weapons, which were displaying the usual teething problems of experimental technology. He wanted to make a good impression on the highly regarded weapons designer.

He checked the line of his uniform, brushing at an imaginary fleck of lint. Fortunately, the designer was female, so he foresaw no difficulty into sweet-talking her into incorporating his ideas into the system. "After all, when you've got it, why not use it?" 

Anticipating his victory, he grinned as he left his quarters, bestowing a flippant salute on the ubiquitous security cameras in the hall. He resented them, but privacy came second to security.

***

"Ah, Tarrant, there you are at last. This is Dayna Mellanby, the weapons expert." Tarrant's immediate superior treated the pilot like a wayward child at times. As now, frowning at him as though he were late, instead of a good half hour early for the meeting.

Tarrant refrained from pointing this out. Instead he turned to the woman standing beside Tarrant's unreasonable section leader, half eclipsed by the man's bulk. "Have I kept you waiting? I do apologize." He smiled, but the smile faded. Belatedly realizing his own ill-manners, the section leader had stepped aside, allowing Tarrant a clear view of the woman. From the crown of her cropped, curly-haired head to the soles of her slender, booted feet, she was absolutely beautiful, perfect in Tarrant's judgement. 

"No," the young woman replied. "It's all my fault, I arrived early, thinking to go over the specs quietly, without interruption." She gave Tarrant's superior an exasperated glance. No doubt the man had been trying to impress her with his importance and general value to the world. Frankly, Tarrant thought the world could have managed without him quite well.

"Would you like me to leave?" Tarrant offered, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he could show that oaf how an officer and a gentleman behaved.

"Not you," she said, shortly.

The section leader cleared his throat, and said, "Well, I have other duties. I'll leave you two to get acquainted before the general meeting. You will be working closely together on the project in future." He made a dignified exit which neither Tarrant nor Dayna noticed.

"I've brought my notes." Dayna offered a computer data cube to Tarrant.

Tarrant fed the cube into the data input set in the conference room table. While waiting for the information to be digested and sorted he said, in a judiciously off-hand tone, "You know, you are terribly familiar to me, but I don't recall meeting you before. I do have a bad memory for names, but I'm certain I would have remembered yours."

Dayna frowned. "I hate to say it, but I have the same problem. Could we have worked together on another project?" The eagerness in her voice surprised Tarrant. He'd half-expected her to say 'What? That old line.' Only it wasn't a line, she really did seem familiar, yet he knew she wasn't in his official files. He'd studied those until he could recite entire pages with his eyes shut.

"I don't think so." At his disclaimer, Dayna looked so downcast that Tarrant admitted the truth to her. "It is possible, but I really don't know. I have a touch of amnesia," he said lightly, as if it were a joke.

"Oh." Dayna reached out to Tarrant and patted his arm softly. "I understand. So do I."

"You do?" Tarrant raised his eyebrows, startled.

Dayna sat down at the conference table. "Sometime when we're not on-duty, we could discuss it." She had her back to the security camera, her sideways glance telling Tarrant plainer than words that she shared his reluctance to talk about personal matters in front of witnesses.

"After the meeting, then. We could have our own conference in my quarters." Tarrant gave Dayna his best, brightest smile. "It's private, and very clean. I make certain there aren't any bugs in my suite."

"Suite?" Dayna leaned forward, almost touching Tarrant. "I do like the sound of that. I'm a very private person."

"So am I," replied Tarrant, meeting her lips with his own.

After a mutually pleasant interval, Dayna squirmed free. "Later, Tarrant. We have work to do."

"You know what they say about all work and no play."

"There'll be time for play."

***

Tarrant waited impatiently in his quarters. He was sure Dayna had gotten his message, as sure as he was that he had understood her. If they wanted to speak privately, they needed to give the snoops an acceptable reason for it. The watchers would think nothing of a besotted couple's clandestine rendezvous.

The door announcer buzzed, followed by Dayna's voice, "Tarrant, quick, let me in, before that awful bore catches up to me again." She was laughing and playful, playing her role for the monitors.

Tarrant opened the door and pulled her inside the room, leaving the door wide open while he gathered Dayna into his arms for a thorough kiss. She was stiff for only an instant, then melted into his caresses with an enthusiasm that had him distracted from the fact that they were only pretending.

"Tarrant, the door," Dayna purred.

"Oh, yes, the door." Tarrant freed one arm from around Dayna's slender waist to close the door.  
Once they were safely hidden from the hall scanners, Dayna said, "Let's not be precipitous, shall we?" She held up her hand, putting a finger to Tarrant's lips. "Just let me get comfortable." She dug out a small device from her gadget-packed shoulder bag and explored the entire suite, concentrating on the steady green light on top of the device. "Now we can talk." She returned to Tarrant and stowed the security detector away.

"You are a cautious soul, aren't you?" Tarrant removed his jacket and hung it carelessly over a chair. "Just for the sake of realism," he said to reassure the young woman of his motives.

"Good thinking." Dayna tugged off her boots and removed the gold belt that held her jumpsuit snug to her waist. "This is as far as I intend to go, though."

"Really?"

"Play your cards right and we'll see. First, I want to know exactly what you meant by amnesia."

Up to now, Tarrant had been eager to talk to her. Now he wondered if he wasn't making a mistake. "Ladies first."

"You're a cautious soul, aren't you?" Dayna teased. "All right, I've been working on project Vindicator for two years. I can't remember a thing about the two years before the project. Farther back, it's patchy. I haven't forgotten academics, but personal memories... I know I had a father and mother, I've seen pictures of them, but I... feel I had a sister, too, and she isn't in the records at all, not even her name." Dayna blinked rapidly and stopped to collect herself.

"Let me guess- all your friends and family are gone, leaving you with no one to ask about your past or how you developed amnesia."

"Exactly." Dayna shrugged. "The doctors told me that it was an accident while I was undergoing the standard security probing before being assigned to the project."

"How ...very...odd," Tarrant said slowly. "That's, word for word, the same story I got when I asked why two years of my life was a blank."

Dayna stared at Tarrant. "As coincidences go, that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"A bit more than I can swallow." He offered, "It isn't quite all gone, though. I do dream, sometimes..."

"But then you wake up..."

"And then it's gone," Tarrant finished.

"Yes. It's so frustrating. - Maybe," Dayna said, meeting Tarrant's clear blue eyes with her own troubled dark brown eyes, "it's meant to be frustrating, Tarrant."

"You think it was done to us deliberately?" Tarrant didn't know why he was so shocked. He had few illusions about the Federation. Although he had been treated well, given rank and pay commensurate with his skills, he wasn't blind. He'd seen the inequities of life for the lower grades and the misuse of power by Alphas on a small scale in the project itself. It didn't take much imagination to enlarge that view to encompass the entire Federation. He had made no complaint, though. Protesters had a habit of either disappearing entirely or else returning to work fanatically loyal and generally quite a few I.Q. points lower.

"You suspected it all along, or you wouldn't have been so careful luring me here to your den - I mean, really, Tarrant, it was like something out of an old dramacast."

Tarrant laughed. "Oh, that. It was expected of me. For some reason, people tend to think of pilots as dashing, debonair, and absolutely irresistible to the opposite sex."

"And in reality, pilots are ..."

"Dashing, debonair, and irresistible to the opposite sex," Tarrant told her solemnly, with only a twitch of his lips betraying himself.

"Hmm." Dayna cocked her head to better study Tarrant. "For the sake of realism, I am committed to spending the night here. Perhaps I could carry out some research to test that theory."

"Research is always useful," Tarrant agreed, moving toward Dayna.

***

"What's that?" Tarrant said, sleepily. Actually, it came out "Wuzza?" but Dayna deciphered his remark.

"I've decided to keep a diary."

"Er, do you think that's wise?" Tarrant sat up in bed, belatedly clutching the sheet to himself.

Dayna chuckled, but didn't lift her head from the small notebook she was writing in. "A dream diary, silly. If I can save what bits I do remember, maybe they'll fit together eventually."

"The doctors told me I should ignore the dreams."

"Yes. The same doctors who haven't helped either of us one little bit. They don't want us to remember." Dayna stopped writing to look up at Tarrant. "Maybe they're right. Maybe it would be better if we never remembered our past. Maybe we were horrible people. It doesn't matter. I have to know, Tarrant."

Tarrant nodded. "It's been eating at me, too, Dayna." He began rummaging through a pile of papers stacked on the bedside table.

"What are you doing?"

"Starting my own diary." He asked Dayna, "you wouldn't happen to have a spare stylus, would you?"

***

"All right, Tarrant, hand it over," Dayna threatened, "and it had better be good. After all the trouble I've had sneaking over here all this time, just because you wouldn't leave your precious Vindicator for an evening."

"Nonsense, you didn't want me at your quarters. You were afraid your roommate would be jealous. I hate it when women fight over me. It's so brutal."

"Hand it over right now, if you don't want to see brutality." Dayna dove for Tarrant's tunic, slipped her hands beneath and began tickling.

"Stop! Stop, torture, this is unfair... if I wasn't a gentleman..."

"Inconvenient, isn't it? I'm glad I'm not a gentleman." When Tarrant threw up his hands in surrender, Dayna relented, kissing the breathless man briefly before releasing him.

"Me too. I mean, I'm glad that you're not a gentleman," Tarrant confessed. He handed a small black-bound book to Dayna in exchange for a similar slim volume. "Skip past the first twenty pages."

"Why? What have you got to hide?" Dayna turned immediately to the front of the book. "Hmm, names, addresses, com-numbers... I don't quite understand the rating system, though. Stars, comets, and what are those circles with the radiating lines?"

"Novas." The pilot feinted a grab at the book. "I had to camouflage the dream diary, Dayna."

"Mine is in a book of boring conference notes. Am I in here?" Dayna asked, with a hint of menace.

"No, only names I might forget are in there, Dayna." She was slightly appeased, and smiled when he added, "If you were in there, I'd have to invent another symbol."

"I certainly hope so." Dayna stopped clowning and paged past the names. She read slowly, having difficulty with Tarrant's handwriting.

Tarrant settled beside her with Dayna's 'conference' notebook in his hands. They read in silence. The pilot finished first and closed Dayna's book, letting his fingers rest on the cover while he pondered what he had read. For weeks they had kept the diaries, but this was the first time they had exchanged them. The similarities were beyond coincidence. He shook his head. "They should never have put us on the same project. We were bound to meet and discover their plot."

Dayna looked up from Tarrant's diary, marking her place with her hand as she did. "I imagine they thought it was safe enough. I was in the weapons lab, you were a pilot. For two years neither of us guessed the other existed. We probably never would have, if they hadn't got greedy and wanted to pick our brains."

Tarrant grimaced. "Didn't they already do that?"

"It probably was very funny to someone," Dayna said bitterly.

"It won't be funny any more if they find out that we know." Tarrant took Dayna's hand. "I don't want to lose you again."

Dayna pulled free, suddenly fierce. "Then fight with me. I tell you, I'm not going to let them buy my past with a fancy job and a few credits."

"How can we fight?" Although he was as angry as Dayna, he knew blind rage was useless against an enemy that ruled planets. "We can't very well say, 'Excuse us, please, would you give us back our memories. We were sentimentally attached to them'."

"We don't ask, we take."

"Be reasonable, Dayna, even if they offered to restore those lost years, we couldn't trust them to do it."

"All right, we'll do it ourselves."

"I'm all for that, Dayna. You know you're the only one I trust." Tarrant drew the woman into his arms. "Together, then?"

Dayna kissed Tarrant. "Together! Come on." She escaped the pilot's embrace, leaped to her feet and tugged on his hands.

"Where are we going?" he asked, bemused by Dayna's sudden change of mood.

"To my quarters."

"Why not stay here?"

"Because you haven't got a Mark 24 graphic visualizing computer here, that's why not." Dayna let go of Tarrant to snatch up both notebooks. "Well, come on, hurry up."

Dayna was half-way out the door before Tarrant pulled himself to his feet. "Wait up!"

***

Dayna sent her roommate out, after a hasty introduction to Tarrant, with a plea for privacy. The door slid shut behind the long-legged redhead, and Dayna muttered, "It's a good thing that I have your little black book."

Wisely ignoring that remark, Tarrant said, "Are you sure the room is secure?"

Dayna shrugged. "As sure as I can be. I sweep the area every day. But, to be on the safe side, I made a jammer." She set up the machine on the table and activated it. "There, now even if they are listening, they won't hear anything." She turned to the computer occupying an alcove in the living quarters. "Tarrant, meet Mark."

The pilot gave the computer a narrow-eyed distrustful stare. "It hasn't got a personality, has it?"

"No, I never did give it one." Dayna frowned. "I'm not sure why I didn't, it has the capability." She began manually feeding information into the computer.

"I don't care for 'live' computers, myself." Tarrant pulled another chair up to sit beside Dayna. "What precisely are you doing?"

"Normally, I use Mark to try out new designs. Describe an object in enough detail and it creates simulations. They're quicker and less expensive to modify than actual models. I'm going to see if Mark can recreate our memories."

"I don't think Mark is quite up to that."

"When I read your notes I saw that we were talking about the same people, for the most part. If we combine our information..."

"Always supposing that the people in our dreams are not simply part of the programming."

"Why go to the trouble to make up the same people for both of us to dream about? They must have been real." While talking, Dayna was continuing to give the computer commands on a keyboard. She stopped. "Mark responds to audio commands, of course, but it's faster to input the initial parameters by hand."

A hazy human outline formed, floating just about the carpet two meters away from the computer alcove. Dayna and Tarrant turned away from Mark to examine the hologram. The image was nude, entirely without sexual characteristics and a dull beige in color. It resembled a sculptor's preliminary model.

"Right." Tarrant nodded. "Let's see... I dreamed about a dark-haired man." The head of the rotating figure was abruptly covered in black hair.

"Not that dark," Dayna said, "more brownish. And none on the face, for goodness sake." The computer complied with the changes.

Tarrant stood up next to the hologram. He held his hand out, indicating a level below his own height. "Not that tall, either." The image obligingly shrunk. "Now for a face."

***

Hours later the room was fully occupied. Most of the people floated, silently staring at Dayna and Tarrant. 

"It's creepy." Dayna shivered elaborately. "I don't know who they are, but I do know them." She pointed to one image, a woman with huge golden-hazel eyes, and black hair even shorter than Dayna's. "And I don't like that one."

"I don't know, she certainly is attractive."

"Don't." Dayna said. She glared at the hologram. "I really don't like her."

"I can't say as I have a very friendly feeling toward this fellow." Tarrant nodded in the direction of the first figure they'd created. "He looks like a mean customer."

"I find him rather... interesting." 

Tarrant snorted. "Interesting is the word for him, all right. He's wearing more iron than a retired general showing off his medal collection at an FSA graduation ceremony." Unaccountably, Tarrant was becoming jealous of the way Dayna eyed the man's hologram. "I wonder how many kilos that jacket weighed."

"I wonder what his name is," Dayna said wistfully.

"Or was. Even if these people actually existed..."

"You know they did."

"Even assuming you're right, they might be dead."

Dayna turned away from the holograms. "I know. And even if they are alive, we haven't got a clue where they are. What's the use of trying."

"Don't give up on me now. Pay no mind to my skepticism." Tarrant put a hand on Dayna's shoulder. "You didn't strike me as the kind to quit."

"I'm not." Dayna's head came up, her chin firmly defiant. "I'm also not the sort to sit around waiting for things to happen. What do we do now, Tarrant?"

The pilot sighed. "You do know how to ask the tough questions."

***

"Tarrant, wake up!" Dayna shook the sleeping man fiercely. "Look, it's HER!"

"Who?" Dayna's excitement transferred itself to Tarrant. He sat up, blinking to clear his sleep-smudged vision. "Who is it?" He focused finally on the vid-unit set in the wall. "Are we getting to be an old bonded couple, watching the news in bed?"

"It's her!" Dayna repeated. She gazed at the vid with such passionate yearning that Tarrant had the uneasy impression he was sitting beside a ravenous carnivore. "It's the hologram woman we designed yesterday, Tarrant!"

Tearing his eyes from the transfigured woman at his side, Tarrant looked to the vid-unit. "My God, you're right. It is her. Turn the sound up, Dayna."

"I don't have to, they've been running captions the whole time." She touched a control and the bottom border of the screen enlarged, making the words more legible.

Tarrant followed the commentary, discovering that the woman on screen was being honored for her 'services above and beyond the call of duty' to the Federation. "Who is she?" 

"Commissioner Sleer of Security."

Tarrant grimaced. "It seems you were right about her. No one loves a security officer."

"I hate her."

"How can you hate someone you barely remember?"

"Instinct. I know that woman is evil, pure vindictive evil." Dayna yanked on Tarrant's arm as the commentator moved from the woman to another honoree. "Another one! Now, you have got to believe me."

"I did all along." Tarrant read the brief biography of the man glowering beside the elegant Commissioner. "Kerr Avon - doesn't ring any bells with me." He noted that the Commissioner kept one hand possessively on Avon's arm. From the man's expression, Tarrant gathered the impression that Avon would have liked to have shrugged her off, but the raven - clad security guards surrounding the pair probably inhibited him.

"He doesn't look right, somehow. I imagine it's the outfit," Tarrant said judiciously. Avon's garments were high-quality material, but absolutely unadorned - a simple dark-blue technician's tunic and trousers.

"He looked better in black."

"Yes, but then he would look like part of her squad." Tarrant nodded, pleased to have solved even so small a mystery.

"She doesn't own him," Dayna said with obvious satisfaction.

"She seems to think so. Dayna, the man was a convicted criminal and a terrorist." The biography was no doubt biased, but it was a telling point that Avon's 'reform' was credited to Sleer, who had obtained a pardon for him and convinced him to atone for his crimes by devoting his life to science and serving the Federation.

"He may be able to tell us about ourselves. I don't care whether he was a terrorist or a tribble-tender. We've got to see him, Tarrant!"

"Have you any idea how well the top-flight scientists are guarded, Dayna? And this Sleer seems to have a personal interest in keeping Avon under wraps. It won't be easy."

"I don't care."

"It may cost us everything we've got," Tarrant warned her. 

"What have we got, really, Tarrant? The state gave us our jobs and a cozy, regimented existence, but we're just part of the machinery."

"We have each other, and our lives. We've lost our past, but we could still have a future."

"I can't live a lie, Tarrant. I'm not subtle, I can't go on smiling at people while I'm wondering if they were the ones to give the order to steal my life." Dayna looked into Tarrant's eyes. "This is the first clue we've had. I like you, Tarrant. I even think I may love you, but don't ask me to forget about this, I simply can't. Not even for you."

Tarrant sighed and spread his arms, pulling the stiff-backed, unresponsive woman to him. "Can you wait another six weeks?"

Suspicious, Dayna squirmed until she could see his face. "Why?" she asked.

"Because Vindicator ought to be ready for her test flight then, and I have a sneaking suspicion that we're going to need a fast getaway."

"Oh, Tarrant." Dayna hugged him tightly. "I do love you. Now, how are we going to carry this off?" she asked, all business once more.

***

"You do that very well," Tarrant said.

Dayna straightened up from the unconscious guard, triumphantly holding aloft the guard's weapon. "It's easy." She examined the weapon. "Poor design. Pity I couldn't bring along some of my work." 

"We agreed that was too dangerous. We couldn't take the chance on an unexpected search or inventory. Your guns are too good, Dayna, they guard them like jewels."

Dayna shrugged and went to the door. "Well, this will have to do, I suppose. Come and put him away for me. He's heavy." Dayna watched the corridor for other guards as Tarrant lugged the unconscious man into a storage room.

Tarrant tied a thin cable about the man's ankles, drawing the free end up behind his back to tie his wrists. For good measure, he added a slip-knot noose about the neck. "Stay still, and you won't have any problems, my man."

"You do that very well." Dayna glanced at Tarrant's workmanship before returning to her post. "But you needn't get so fancy. We aren't staying long enough for anyone to admire your packaging skills."

"We are staying long enough for our friend to wake up and attempt to give the alarm." Tarrant checked the bonds. "I need a few minutes to check the ship over before we embark on our life of crime."

"Why? You've practically lived on the ship since they finished it. 'Six weeks', you told me and I've been waiting two months, Tarrant! I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"Yes, I can feel senile decay setting in on me already."

"Are you coming or aren't you?" Dayna stalked away before Tarrant could reply.

"Yes, my love, right away." Tarrant nudged the guard with his foot. "You were lucky, Dayna can be quite sharp at times."

He caught up with Dayna outside the hangar where the Federation's newest achievement rested. "Are you sure the surveillance is taken care of?"

"Of course. It wasn't difficult to reprogram the computer to substitute old images for current surveillance." She frowned. "I shouldn't have known how to do that, but when I needed to, I just could. Something I learned too well to forget, although I've forgotten who taught it to me." She tossed her head. "Never mind, can we get on with it now?"

"One last chance to back out, Dayna. No one has seen us - even that guard only knows he was hit from behind. We could go back to our quarters and pretend nothing has happened."

"Why? Do you want to quit?" Dayna was shocked.

"No. It's just that I get the feeling you're so caught up in this that you haven't really considered the consequences. I feel guilty leading you on. Once we start running, we won't be able to stop. I'd wanted to give you a better life than that."

"This is living!" Dayna grinned. "Feel your heart race, Tarrant." She put one hand against the pilot's chest. "The exhilaration of the chase- this is much more fun than anything I've ever done for the Federation. I'll never regret this, Tarrant, not so long as I live."

"I admit it, I feel it too. Flying was the only thing I've done that was half so exciting."

"So let's take the pretty ship and go. Now, while we can."

***

Tarrant and Dayna walked openly to the ship. In case they were discovered, the pilot hoped sheer arrogance would suffice to get them to the ship. It shouldn't be necessary, though. The ship was complete, all the tests run. The menial workers had been dismissed and the higher grades were attending a ceremony honoring them for their work. The area should be nearly deserted, the remaining workers taking advantage of the lack of overseers to slack off in their own quarters far from the hangar.

No one would even remark on Dayna's and Tarrant's absence from the ceremony as they had been granted a holiday. They weren't expected back for a week, not until Vindicator's scheduled test flight. The intervening week was slated to allow high officials to tour the ship. Tarrant was pleased to think of all the disappointed Alphas descending on the project supervisor in droves.

The ship sat in lonely splendor, gleaming skin bold as a new-minted coin. 

"She's lovely, isn't she, Dayna?" Tarrant ran his hand in a caress down the sleek alloy hull.

"I think she'd look much better on the inside." Dayna kept turning, expecting guards to pop up at any moment.

"Oh, yes, of course." Tarrant dug into his pocket for the coded computer key to the ship's main docking port. "This is it." He opened the door and led Dayna to the flight deck. "I'll give you a complete tour later," he said, noticing Dayna's reaction to the maze of corridors. "They only let you work on the weapons, so it must be hard for you to have gotten a true impression of her size. Don't worry, a single pilot can handle her - for a time at least."

"I can manage most of the other positions, you know."

"If you couldn't we wouldn't be here now." Tarrant reached the flight deck and headed for the pilot's seat. "I'd feel better if we had a full crew, though. If we have to fight, you're going to wish you had a few extra arms." He pointed out the distance between some of the instrumentation. "For now, watch the sensor array. Once I power her up, you should get readings on the building and environs." His hands flew over the controls as he spoke. Vindicator came to life, vibrating gently and making small clicks and clucks as panels activated and lights flashed.

"Yes, I'm getting readings. Hard to tell with all the ground clutter, but I don't see any activity nearby - no moving vehicles, nothing. It's quiet out there."

"Not for long." Tarrant grinned. "Vindicator was supposed to be draped in bunting, and towed to the launch site where a military band would be playing before the assembled high officials of Space Command. A shame to miss that, I always liked a brass band." He flipped another switch, watching the result on the main monitor screen which filled the front of the flight deck. The hangar roof irised open. Normally, it was used by heli-trucks carrying material to the ship-builders. Heli-trucks were much smaller than Vindicator, but Tarrant judged there would be enough space for the ship to launch directly from her present spot. He let the engines build up power until the entire ship shook and growled with the pent-up force.

"Now!" he cried, as he directed the power to the belly thrusters.

Dayna stared wide-eyed at the rapidly approaching roof and the inadequate opening. "Oh!" At the last instant she covered her face with her hands.

"You can look now."

Dayna pulled her hands down. "You didn't tell me that was going to happen."

"You didn't ask. Come on, we haven't much time before we start Phase Two. By the way, congratulations are in order."

"They are?" Dayna said abstractedly. She was studying the monitors, trying to adjust herself to the flood of incoming data.

"I didn't expect to make it through Phase One."

"Phase One was your show, this is my turn." Dayna called up information on the computer. "I think my plan is going to work."

"I bloody well hope so. It's too late to change it now."

Dayna ignored Tarrant's outburst, knowing it was only an excess of spirits. He was always a bit wild when he got his hands on a ship, she'd noticed. She rather liked it. "I mean, the target hasn't been moved. According to the records, he hasn't left the grounds since that ceremony."

"An agoraphobic, no doubt." Tarrant swung the ship around. "Prepare for landing."

Dayna glanced up. "Already?"

"I admit it was a short test flight, but even with this new anti-detector device, I don't want to chance some Sunday driver running into us. There's the cave."

"I didn't even get to unfasten my lift-off harness," Dayna commented as Tarrant guided the ship into a large cavern.

"Speed is essential, Dayna. Once they realize Vindicator's missing, there'll be hell to pay. There." He settled back and patted the control panel. "Piece of cake."

"So why are you sweating?" Dayna unhooked her harness and got up, stretching luxuriously. "Let's go."

***

Once outside the ship, they paused to survey their surroundings. The cave was enormous, either a natural geological formation or a result of one of Earth's forgotten wars. More importantly than its origin was its location. It was within flyer range of the laboratory they intended to visit, yet too far from the Domes for Security patrols. Few citizens were able to obtain the necessary out-Dome pass to legally venture into the wilds, so they had no fear of an innocent tourist stumbling across the ship while they were away.

Tarrant had petitioned his superior for such a pass, and gotten it when he and Dayna had convinced the man that they were hopeless romantics who wanted to get away from it all- just the two of them in the wilderness. They had rented flyers to locate an appropriate hiding place for the ship, and decided the cave was perfect. Dayna's flyer had been left near the cave, camouflaged with foliage against their return, while they had returned to the Dome together in Tarrant's vehicle. 

Tarrant's exaltation at the successful theft was fading as they neared the laboratory. He was grateful that he had piloting the flyer to keep him at least partly occupied. "I wish we'd been able to check out this laboratory better, Dayna."  
"Well, we weren't." Dayna was enjoying the ride, leaning close to the window to observe the scenery. "Look, an animal - was that a deer, Tarrant?"

"I don't know. Might have been, I suppose. Could you take your mind off the wildlife and pay attention to more important matters - like how we're going to get in to talk to this Avon person? You had objections to every plan I had, but I haven't heard your bright ideas yet."

Dayna shrugged. "Wasn't any point in thinking about it ahead of time. It was all I could do to get the location and admission that Avon was there- everything else was under a security coding that I didn't dare try to break. I know my limits, Tarrant."

"You admit you have limits?" Tarrant raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment.

"Yes. Don't worry, we'll find a way in, just wait and see." Deliberately changing the subject, she said, "I wonder why they don't let people go out-Dome more often. I haven't seen any evidences of pollution or radiation contamination."

"It's easier to keep control when everyone lives under the security cameras. You were right, Dayna, it's better to take our chances rather than live like rats in a maze."

"Not rats - we're two hawks, Tarrant. They clipped our wings for a while, but we're free again and we're not going back to the cage. Not ever." Dayna smiled and waved, taking in the horizon. "We have the sky again."

***

"This is a plan?" Tarrant said, incredulously. He had circled the laboratory grounds seeking entrance, finally, at Dayna's insistence, landing at the perimeter of a plainly marked footpath. He had never seen such lavishly landscaped grounds, nor so many security cameras and floating security robots - the laser-equipped, motion-sensitive type. "Walk up to the door and announce ourselves?" He repeated Dayna's suggestion, hoping that she had been kidding.

"You saw the way Sleer was hanging onto Avon, like she had invented the man. And this place- well- it's obvious they're treating him like a full-fledged Alpha. I'll bet he can invite anyone in he wants."

"So why would he want to invite us in? Either he doesn't know us - or he does and he also knows we're trouble. Why would he risk all this just to talk to us?"

"Maybe he's a hawk, too," was all Dayna would say.

Fuming, Tarrant escorted Dayna up the long, curving walk to the house that lay dimly visible beyond the trees and tall, flowering bushes and statuary-filled fountains. It was like stepping back in time several hundred years ... except for the neatly posted signs that warned that straying of the path was forbidden.

Dayna tested the enforcement of the directive by reaching out toward a low-hanging bloom bordering the path. A rising hum warned her of the swift approach of one of the robots, before she could touch the flower. "I didn't really want it," she sniffed, turning cautiously away from the edge of the path.

"I used to think I was reckless," Tarrant muttered, taking a firm grip on Dayna's arm. "It's not fair. I have to keep my feet on the ground to look after you, when I'd rather be off in the clouds myself."

The path ended at a broad, white-painted door set in the front of the sprawling mansion. "What now? Shall I ring for the butler?" Tarrant asked.

The door spoke, or at least a com-panel set within the door spoke, "You're a week early," the speaker was impatient and barely civil. "Tell Sleer that it isn't ready. And if she wants me to attend another of those damned ceremonies, forget it. I'm not in a mood to socialize."

"I gathered that," Tarrant said dryly. 

There was silence for three or four seconds, then the voice said, "Stand back where the monitor can see you."

Tarrant looked more closely at the door frame, located the hidden lenses and obliged by moving back within their view. "I feel ridiculous talking to a door. Are you going to let us in or not?"

"Us?" the unseen man sounded sharper than before. "Who's with you?"

"I am, my name is Dayna Mellanby." Dayna joined Tarrant in front of the optical pick-up.

"I know who you are. Why are you here?"

"Because you know who we are," Dayna replied. "We only want to talk to you. Please, let us in."

"Has it occurred to either of you that I might not wish to be disturbed? That I might simply notify the authorities of an unwanted intrusion on my property?"

Tarrant had already developed a dislike for the voice. "It occurred to us, yes. I did try to tell Dayna that you didn't seem the sort who'd give a damn about other people's troubles. But we are here now, and you're going to be disturbed a hell of a lot more unless you let us in."

"Tarrant! Avon's not the enemy," Dayna scolded. "You needn't snap at him like that."

"How do we know he's not our enemy? All we do know about him is that he was a criminal who sold out his friends for a pardon and this." He waved at the house.

"As usual, Tarrant, you have only heard part of the story and misunderstood what you did hear," Avon said. "Very well, I will grant you a short interview, simply to put an end to this nuisance."

The door opened, revealing a modern, chrome-steel and plastic interior. Tarrant peered in. There were tables and chairs of strictly utilitarian design lining a bare-walled corridor. "Not very inviting," he said, as he stepped in, only to halt when a security robot floated up to him. Dayna stepped up beside the pilot, lifting the weapon she'd taken from the guard back at the project. The robot blasted the gun out of her hand with a single burst from its laser, then hovered, humming ominously. 

Dayna cursed and rubbed her hand.

"Not one of your more impressive performances, I fear."

Dayna and Tarrant turned to face the speaker. Avon was leaning negligently against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with amusement. He wore another plain technician's garment, this one in dark gray. "You ought to know better, these machines are far faster than mere human reflexes."

"As that was our only weapon, perhaps you could call off your tin watchdog," Tarrant said. The smug grin on Avon's face added to Tarrant's irritation.

"I wish I could, but they're Servalan's dogs, not mine. They are programmed to protect me, but not to obey me." He pushed away from the wall. "As long as you refrain from any more foolish moves, the robots will take no notice of you... They won't even try to stop _you_ from leaving." His voice was bitter on the last sentence.

"I was right, then." Dayna gave Avon a bright smile. "You are a prisoner here, so you are on our side."

"I am on no one's side but my own. Don't let my general dissatisfaction with life lead you to believe that I am ready to join forces with you. While it is true that I resent the fact that I am unable to move freely, there really isn't any place I wish to go." He spun on his heel. "Follow me, my personal quarters are more comfortable. This anteroom is reserved for Servalan's myrmidons."

"Said the spider to the fly," Tarrant muttered.

"What was that, Tarrant?" Avon asked, without breaking stride. He angled his head toward the pilot.

"I said, I don't think I entirely trust you, Avon."

"Getting cautious in your old age, Tarrant?"

Tarrant resisted the urge to grab the snide little bastard by the shoulders and shake him until the sneer flew off. 

"True, I could hand you over to Security, but what would it profit me?" Avon asked.

"To curry favor with your masters, or is it mistress?"

Avon stopped and rounded on Tarrant. The amusement was entirely gone from his face and voice. "The bargain I made with Servalan did not include that. Be careful, Tarrant. I owe you nothing. I have paid all debts in full. Do not try my patience. I haven't any."

Dayna waited until Avon had resumed walking before she said to Tarrant, in an angry whisper, "Do you _have_ to antagonize him, Tarrant?"

"Sorry." Tarrant stared at Avon's back, wondering how the man got under his skin so easily.

"Here." Avon stepped into a large room. "Home, sweet home," he said dryly. " Come in. The robots do not have permission to enter here. Unless, of course, they detect a danger to me." He appraised Tarrant. "I should think we need fear no interruption."

The single room was larger than Dayna's and Tarrant's living quarters combined. It looked like a museum recreation of a decadent era of centuries ago. Landscapes in gilt frames hung on the walls, the floors were covered with intricately detailed, brightly colored rugs and the furniture was all polished, carved wood and richly dyed, natural fiber upholstery. The only anachronism was a clear plex box of electronic components and lights twinkling on a side table.

"Would you care for refreshments?" Avon asked. "I am out of practice, but I understand that to be the first duty of a good host. Brandy, perhaps? Dayna, I seem to recall you were partial to sherry." Without awaiting a reply, Avon opened one of the cabinets to busy himself with bottles and glasses. He loaded his selections on a silver tray, carried them to the nearest table and sat down on the upholstered couch by the table.

"We haven't time for the amenities. Dayna and I have stolen a prototype space ship. Eventually, someone is going to notice," Tarrant said, laying the sarcasm on thick for Avon's benefit.

Avon paused, brandy glass partway to his lips, then resumed his interrupted motion. After swallowing and savoring the mouthful, he said, "Ah, then you had better go now, hadn't you."

"Avon!" Dayna said sharply. "I want to know what happened to us and why. They took my memories, mine and Tarrant's. You're the only one we can turn to for help."

"Don't beg, Dayna," Tarrant told her. "He doesn't care. He's said so." 

"That is not precisely accurate. What I said was that I had fully discharged any obligation I could conceivably have toward either one of you. You are still alive, although you have suffered a partial loss of memory. It was an acceptable price to pay." Avon tipped the snifter again. " At least, at the time, I considered it so."

"You made them do it to us?" Dayna cried. "Why?"

Avon looked into the brandy, his expression sour, then set the glass aside. "Frankly, it was the best I could do for you, under the circumstances. I had a certain amount of influence, enough to insure your lives, provided you could be rendered - harmless - to the administration." He looked up at Tarrant, and sneered. "I sold my skills and knowledge to buy your freedom. They did not program you. There was no torture, no impairment of faculties, neither for you not the others."

"Others?" Dayna asked.

"Soolin and Vila, of course. Oh, yes, you will have forgotten them as well. Naturally, that knowledge could weaken the other blocks put upon your memory. In fact, you two should never have met."

"They made a mistake," Dayna said, smiling, as she stretched out her hand to Tarrant.

He took it and pressed it to his lips before releasing it. "Yes, they did. Come now, Avon, admit it, you made no heroic sacrifices for us. You've done right well by yourself, haven't you?" 

"Indeed I have. I have no wants or needs that go unfulfilled. Servalan is scrupulously careful in that regard. She receives ample return on her investment to justify my creature comforts."

"What is all this about Servalan? Servalan's dead, isn't she? I thought Sleer was the one who took credit for your 'reformation'." Dayna said. She had settled on the couch beside Avon and now sampled her drink. She raised her eyebrows in approval.

"It is amusing." Avon laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. "The former President of the Federation is now anathema, while, under her new identity as Sleer, she is also the darling of the Security Council, being groomed for finer things. You must grant her credit for being a remarkably resilient creature."

"If you can prove Sleer is Servalan, then you have a gun at her head. Why not use that as leverage?" Tarrant asked.

"Don't be obtuse, Tarrant. I am isolated. Apart from the occasional well-chaperoned public display, I have not left this estate in two years. The only people I see are Servalan's hand-picked cadre who are just bright enough to think that dying for her is an honor. Of course, Orac could contact any computer in the Federation and expose her, but she had me put certain limits on it, before she would allow me to have it. I can't use Orac to harm her in any way, or to aid in any escape attempt. Orac will also signal the robots to apprehend me by force, if I seek to influence those limitations."

"Orac?" Dayna said questioningly.

"Yes? What is it?" An annoyed-sounding, petulant voice startled Dayna and Tarrant.

Dayna went to the source of the voice, the clear plex box. "Oh, it's only a computer."

"I beg your pardon!" Now Orac sounded insulted. "I am far more than any conventional computer. My creator, Ensor, evolved me as far beyond those simple-minded machines as you are beyond the ape. There are no limits to my abilities."

"Really? Then why can't you get Avon off this estate?" Dayna asked.

"Because no one authorized to do so has so instructed me."

Avon's head came up and his eyes narrowed. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "When Servalan had me limit my control of Orac, she put no similar restrictions on you. Naturally, she considered you no longer a threat."

Tarrant seized the idea. "You mean we could get you out of here with Orac's help?"

"Certainly. If I wished to take the time from more interesting research."

"Be quiet, Orac. No one is asking you to do anything." Avon shook his head. "I am not going along with any wild schemes. Orac and I are staying here."

"But we need you, Avon!" Dayna cried. "We have a ship. We could leave Earth, go wherever you like, be free. Don't you want to be free, Avon?"

"No one is ever completely free. There are always shackles of one kind or another, Dayna. I have grown reconciled to my fate, and my restrictions seldom gall me." Avon smiled. "Had you come a year earlier, my answer might have been different. But now, no, I am content to remain as I am." He rose to his feet. "You must go now. Once your absence is discovered, it will be reported to Servalan. She is not a stupid woman, this will be the first place she will look. This time, I don't believe I will be able to persuade her to spare your lives."

"Tarrant." Dayna turned to the pilot, at a loss and beseeching him for aid.

"Avon..." Tarrant began, then assessed the determination on the other man's face. He stopped, looked at Dayna and shrugged. "I am sorry, Dayna, but I don't see him listening to sentimental arguments, and we certainly can't match Servalan's financial inducements." He approached Avon, with his right hand outstretched. "No hard feelings?"

"Not on my part." Apparently relieved that he had been spared an emotional scene, Avon accepted Tarrant's hand.

Tarrant yanked Avon forward and punched him with his free hand, meeting Avon's chin with a crisp crunch. He held onto Avon, keeping the limp body from reaching the carpet.

[](http://www.flickr.com/photos/eclectic_house/9068353933/)

"Damn." Tarrant winced. "I think I've broken my hand. I figured he was hard-headed, but I didn't realize it extended to his jaw."

"Tarrant, you idiot, he'll never tell us anything now." Dayna knelt beside the sagging figure to examine Avon. "He'll be all right, I think."

"Good." Tarrant propped Avon against the couch, then went over to Orac. "Orac, I want you to deactivate those security robots and anything else that might prevent us from leaving this estate."

"Oh, very well." Orac's lights flickered. "It is done. However, I advise you to lose no time. The nullification of the security robots triggered an alarm. Servalan will have been notified."

"That's all we needed." Tarrant hefted the computer, testing the weight. "Here, Dayna, you take this, I'll handle him." He nodded toward Avon.

Dayna accepted the burden. "It's heavy, Tarrant."

"Would you care to trade places?" Tarrant hauled Avon upright, to awkwardly drape the unconscious computer expert over his shoulder. "Too much soft living, Avon." He patted one dangling leg.

"Him or you?" 

Dayna led the way, still wary, despite Orac's claim that it was safe. Deactivated robots lay like so many broken toys along the hallways of the mansion and beside the path that led to their flyer.

"Here we are, watch your head, Avon," Tarrant said as he deposited his burden into the flyer.

Dayna dumped Orac unceremoniously on the floor of the flyer, then seated herself next to Avon. "This is going to be tight."

"Hold your breath, I'm getting in." Tarrant squeezed in on the other side of Avon, grabbing the man by the shoulder to push him away when he leaned toward the pilot.

"Thanks!" Dayna struggled to brace the loose-limbed body upright, before it slumped onto her. "Did you really have to knock him out, Tarrant?"

"Yes, I really did." Tarrant busied himself with the controls. "He wasn't going to come of his own free will. Did you want to stand there arguing until Servalan showed up? I was thinking of him, too, you know. Once they found out how easily we got in, they would have tightened security, probably moved him to a dungeon. That's the best case scenario, assuming that they didn't punish him for letting us go."

"It just doesn't seem right. I mean, we didn't give him any more choice than the Federation's given us." Dayna was worried, and showed it. She tried to settle Avon in a less cramped position, then reached up to brush his hair back from his eyes. "He looks rather sweet like this."

"Enjoy the view while you can. He's going to wake up with a mean headache. If we're very lucky, he'll wait until we're back on Vindicator. "

***

Avon shook his head and groaned as the movement made his whole head throb, from the top of his skull down to the hinge of his jaw.

"Well, so you're back with us," a cheerful voice commented.

Avon opened his eyes. Tarrant was leaning over him, smiling. Avon flinched, then glared when he found that he was bound, strapped to a chair. He struggled briefly, then subsided, cursing.

"That isn't the right attitude to take, Avon." Tarrant was still smiling, despite Avon's insults.

"If you would take a moment to look around, you will notice that you are in a ship, and the ship is in space. It is too late to return to your hermitage. Like it or not, you are stuck with us. The thing to do now, Avon, is grin and bear it." Tarrant gave a dazzling display of teeth as an example.

Avon growled and yanked on the straps again. "You do realize that you have just signed the death warrant for all of us?"

"Oh, it isn't that bad, surely," Dayna said. She came up to Avon and patted him on the shoulder. "How's your head?"

"Functional. Which is more than I can say for either of you. What do you use for brains? You've gained nothing but another enemy by abducting me. Didn't you have enough?"

Dayna crouched beside Avon. "I'm sorry Tarrant hurt you, and he's sorry too, aren't you, Tarrant?"

At Tarrant's unrepentant grin, Dayna sighed. "He is sorry, he just doesn't like to say it. I apologize for him."

Avon shut his eyes. "This is ridiculous. Do you intend to wander about the galaxy with me strapped to this chair, serving as a Viking figurehead?" There was a tug on the bindings, and Avon opened his eyes.

"This was just to make you think for a minute," Tarrant said as he released the ties. "Now, before you hit me back, I would like to remind you that you may need a pilot."

Avon stood up. "You may have me - for now - but you will come to regret it." His words were fierce, but he was pale and shaky.

"I already do," Tarrant replied.

Dayna touched Avon on the arm. "You must be tired. Let me show you to a cabin. When you've rested, everything will look much better."

"Why? Is he," Avon said, sneering at Tarrant, "going to jump ship in the meantime?" Having gotten in the last word, Avon followed Dayna off the bridge.

Tarrant looked up when Dayna returned a few minutes later. "Tell me, how did his Royal Highness like his stateroom?"

Dayna frowned. "I don't think he even saw it. He just collapsed on the bed and was out in seconds. Did you have to be so rough? He's not as young as we are, you know."

"He's not a senile old wreck, either. You're too soft on him. Before our passenger wakes, we should make plans. He was right enough, we haven't thought this out properly. We're safe as long as the anti-detector shield holds, but it has to be monitored, along with the rest of Vindicator. You and I can't run Vindicator by ourselves- not for very long, at any rate."

"Maybe Avon... no, he's not the volunteering type. What we need are people we can trust not to turn us in to the Federation."

"It would also be nice if they were experienced space hands. Another problem, Dayna, we haven't any credits. Who in his right mind is going to take this job for free?"

"Rebels?" Dayna guessed. "I've heard rumors that there are still some organized groups. They surely wouldn't sell us to the Federation, no matter the reward."

"I don't know." Tarrant idly stroked the panel before him. "This ship is a temptation - how long would it be before they'd try to take her? No, Vindicator is ours, yours and mine, no one else's."

"What about Avon?"

"He didn't get the ship, we did. If he makes himself useful, I'd be willing to let him stay, but he'd better learn who's master here."

"Tarrant, we've got enough to worry about without you and Avon butting heads together every five minutes."

"A ship can't have more than one captain, Dayna. Avon's a computer technician; I went through the Federation Space Academy officer training. Setting aside the matter of ownership for the moment, which of us do you think is better qualified for the job?"

"Oh, you are, no doubt, but Avon's a proud man. A little diplomacy wouldn't hurt you. You can't simply tell him that being kidnapped puts him under Captain Tarrant's command."

"Why not?" Tarrant grinned. "They used to do that on Earth. It was called shanghaiing. A sailor would wake up on a ship at sea, where he could either obey the captain or be keel-hauled."

"You read too many old books, Tarrant. I seem to recall that there were a lot of mutinies in those days, too."

"All right. I promise to be fair-minded, gentle and reasonable with him. Although I very much doubt he will reciprocate. Satisfied?"

"Yes."

"Now all we have to do is find ourselves a couple of experienced spacers unaffiliated with either the rebels or the Federation who will be happy to work for free. I'm open to suggestions."

Dayna thought for a moment, then said, "We could ask Orac."

Tarrant glanced over to the clear box strapped down to a nearby console. "Why not. Orac, have you been listening to us?"

"I had little choice in the matter, since you have not seen fit to remove my actuator. I wish you would do so, so that I might continue my research undisturbed by your inane conversation."

"Inane?" Dayna was affronted. "We were discussing a very real, very urgent, problem."

"The discussion was inane. Given the operative parameters, your solution is obvious."

"Well?" she prompted.

"Well is not a question."

"I don't have much use for Avon's pet, do you, Tarrant? He'd fit very nicely in the disposal chute."

"Your requirements for crew have been noted. They may most closely be met by recruiting previous associates."

"I don't know any spacers I'd trust as far as I could throw them." Dayna smiled at Tarrant. "Present company excepted."

"Neither do I, come to that. Come on, Orac, don't play games. If you know the answer we're looking for, just spit it out, like a good little computer."

"Humphh. Very well. Since your petty minds are obviously incapable of understanding any save the most obvious of statements - find Vila and Soolin. They are marginally useful and would be unable to betray you to the Federation without actively endangering themselves. They have been disassociated with the rebel movement for two years and are unlikely to personally covet Vindicator."

"Soolin and Vila?" Tarrant looked at Dayna.

"I like it." Dayna was excited. "It would be perfect. Avon said they were treated the same as us, they'd be happy to join once they knew."

"This old home week sounds very nice, Orac, but how are we supposed to locate them?" Tarrant asked.

"As they are both presently in the employ of Servalan, she could locate them for you."

"Wonderful." Tarrant threw his hands up in the air. "We have just stolen Servalan's pet project, her pet computer whiz and his pet computer. Now we ask her to make the set complete? Orac, you've been living alone with Avon too long, it's done things to your circuits."

"Servalan can be offered an exchange. She would be willing to do almost anything to reclaim Vindicator . She will be willing to do anything to regain me." Orac was smug.

"Orac does have a point," Dayna said.

"What? Can you imagine going two steps out of your way to retrieve that absurd computer? And, while Vindicator is a valuable prototype, the Federation can easily afford to build more, now that the research is done and the plans complete. Servalan's most likely strategy is to send a fleet to destroy us."

"I'm not so sure about the computer or the ship, but I know she'll want Avon back. You saw the way she gloated over him. She won't let him go without a fight. Isn't that right, Orac?"

"Emotional motivation is unnecessary. I am unique and Servalan is well aware of my value. Vindicator is also unique and likely to remain so. In the event of his successful escape, Avon instructed me to delete the entire data record of all projects to which he had been assigned by Servalan, including Project Vindicator."

"I begin to appreciate Avon. He does have a certain style," Tarrant remarked. "So we do have bargaining chips. We can't offer her Vindicator. Servalan would never believe I'd give up this ship, especially as it would then be used against us. So it looks like you're on the trading block, Orac. You for Soolin and Vila."

"That is inequitable. I am far more valuable than they are."

"What would you suggest- give her Avon?" 

"That would be a more even bargain. It should not prove difficult to convince Servalan that Avon is uncooperative and you wish to be rid of him."

Dayna said, "We escaped together. Why would she believe he wasn't cooperating with us?"

"The monitors on the estate will have shown Servalan precisely how Avon was 'persuaded' to accompany you."

"I told you to deactivate the security, Orac," Tarrant said.

"You said - and I quote - 'Deactivate those security robots and anything else that might prevent us from leaving this estate'. The monitors in no way hindered your escape. They simply recorded the event."

"I see I'm going to have to be more specific in future, Orac. Contact Servalan. Tell her that we are interested in a trade- you for Soolin and Vila."

"I protest. You are not making a wise decision. It would be more sensible to offer Avon."

"I disagree. Vindicator already has a computer- one that doesn't give me back-talk or look for loopholes in its orders," Tarrant said. "And while I may not like Avon, he is human - well, if you stretch the definition - and he is not for sale."

"I'm glad to hear it," a sardonic voice came from the entrance to the flight deck.

"Avon!" Dayna whirled, startled. "I thought you were asleep."

"Fortunately, I am not." Avon strode past Tarrant to Orac and stood by the computer. He said, "Orac is not yours to dispose of, Tarrant. Orac belongs to me. It is all I have to show for a lifetime's endeavor. I will not allow you to throw it away."

"We weren't going to throw it away, Avon," Dayna said. "Just trade it for Soolin and Vila. Surely you want to help them."

"Not particularly. They are in no danger- unless you insist on involving them in your peril, as you have already involved me."

"But we need them, Avon," Tarrant said. He remembered his promise to Dayna and was attempting reason. Avon still looked unsteady on his feet. It would be simple enough to overpower him and do as he pleased with Orac. Simple, but not wise. Avon was both clever and vindictive, judging by his farewell gift to Servalan. "This ship doesn't fly herself. We need a crew."

"Fine. I'll have Orac give you a list of free trader recruitment stations. I have - access- to Federation funds sufficient to hire any number of crew."

Dayna didn't like that. "But what about Soolin and Vila?"

"I tell you, they are perfectly safe!" Avon snapped. "Leave them out of this."

"How do you know they are safe? Orac says they are employed by Servalan. That doesn't sound safe to me," Dayna persisted.

Avon scowled, then sighed, accepting Dayna's concern as genuine. "Orac has given me regular reports. Soolin is currently Servalan's private bodyguard. She is highly paid and enjoys all the privileges of an Alpha-class citizen. As she is efficient, intelligent, and totally pragmatic Servalan values her highly. 

"Vila is not officially on Servalan's payroll, although he does work for her. As much as he ever works, that is. On her orders, he infiltrates her rival's defenses, either gathering blackmail evidence, planting surveillance devices, or simply stealing whatever isn't nailed down. In his free time, which is considerable, he amuses himself by robbing the Alpha citizenry blind, secure in the knowledge that his patroness will extricate him from any legal difficulties he may encounter. 

"They are, in fact, better off than nine-tenths of the human race. They have occupations suited to their abilities and inclinations, as you two did. I repeat, there is no need to 'rescue' them."

"I'm touched to hear that you watched over us so faithfully, Avon," Tarrant said.

"I merely wished to be certain I got my money's worth," Avon said sharply. "When you deal with Servalan, back-stabbing and lies are normal routine. Bear that in mind, next time you so blithely talk about trading with her. Her idea of a fair trade is one is which you give her everything she wants and she graciously refrains from putting you to the torture before your execution."

"Then you must have been worth a great deal to her, for to have kept her word with you," Dayna said shrewdly. "Are you really that clever, Avon?"

"Evidently not, or I wouldn't be here." Avon staggered slightly. He turned to Tarrant. "I am tired. I would like to rest. Can I rely on you not to sell anything which does not belong to you while I do so?"

"Only if you agree to help Dayna and me plan a method of freeing Soolin and Vila."

"They are free!" Avon exploded. He clenched his fists and snarled at Tarrant. "They are far more free than I am at the moment."

"But you can remember, Avon. They can't." Dayna had gotten between the two men, her back to Tarrant while she faced Avon. "Would they be willing to work for Servalan if they were themselves?"

Avon looked away from Dayna's earnest face. "No," he admitted, "but they are far more likely to live long and happy lives if they do not remember. Do you have the right to take that from them?"

Tarrant looked past Dayna, steadily into Avon's eyes. "Do you have the right to deny them their memories?"

Dayna said, "Avon, you aren't going to convince us to leave them behind. So you may as well make up your mind to help us."

Avon shook his head. "Your logic leaves much to be desired. Either I help, or you two will do it anyway, probably getting me killed along the way. Let me sleep a few hours. Then, if Servalan's pursuit ships still haven't made the whole question moot by finding us and blasting us into our component atoms - then I will help you plan this stupidity." Avon turned to the corridor leading to the rest of the ship. "Memory or no, Tarrant, you haven't changed in the least."

"Thanks."

"That was not a compliment."

***

"Avon, the plan will work! Why do you insist on being so obstinate?"

"I am obstinate, as you call it, Dayna, because I am pitting two foolhardy amnesiacs and an untried ship against Servalan and the combined might of the Federation. Pessimism seems an appropriate response."

"Don't mind him, Dayna, I think it will work."

"And if it doesn't, Tarrant?"

"Then, Avon, you get to say, 'I told you so'," the pilot answered.

Avon walked over to Orac and leaned over the computer, placing both hands on its casing. "Orac, contact Servalan. Tell her that we want to exchange you for Vila and Soolin. Give her the agreed-on coordinates for the meeting." Avon paused for an acknowledgement, which did not come. "Well, I'm waiting, Orac!"

"As you will no doubt recall, I have been programmed not to allow you to harm Servalan, Avon. My assessment of the likely outcome of your request is such than I cannot comply with it." 

"Damn. Tarrant, give Orac the order." Avon stood at the pilot's side, fuming, while the order was given. When Orac indicated compliance, Avon leaned forward and said, "Oh, Orac, when I have a little spare time, you and I are going to have a chat." He tapped a computer probe significantly against his palm. "You require a complete overhaul, I fear."

"There she is!" Dayna had stared at the sensor screen so long while waiting for Servalan's arrival that she thought her eyes were locked in place.

"Alone?" Avon asked sharply. He strode to her side and checked the instruments along with Dayna.

"She seems to be following instructions," Dayna said. She was a trifle disappointed. She had half-hoped to be able to demonstrate Vindicator's weapons. Nothing drastic, just a few shots across Servalan's bow to shake her up.

"All right, look sharp, this is it." Tarrant guided Vindicator toward Servalan's ship. As they neared and the other ship's image filled the main monitor, he commented, "Latest model pursuit ship. Still - no match for Vindicator."

"Less talk, more action." Avon stood tense at his instrument panel.

"Getting impatient?" Tarrant smiled. "All right, let's see what the lady has to say for herself." He activated the communicator and hailed the other ship. "This is Vindicator. Are you ready to make the exchange?"

The pursuit ship on the main monitor vanished, replaced by Servalan's smiling face. "Oh, Tarrant, you kept the name I gave my ship. How sweet. However, I would have preferred that you didn't keep the ship as well."

"I know you would, but she's too good for you," Tarrant answered. "Now, about the piece of merchandise which I am willing to allow you to redeem?"

"Yes. Orac." Servalan was no longer smiling. "Avon, are you simply Tarrant's back-up, now? If you like, I'd be happy to take both you and Orac home. After all, you left so abruptly, things were - in disarray."

"Sorry, did I leave the bath running?" Avon looked coldly at Servalan. "I did not choose to leave, but I do choose to stay away. Orac is less discriminating than I."

"So be it. Orac may not be as useful in other hands, but I will eventually regain all that you destroyed. You gave me a setback, nothing more."

"Any inconvenience I may have caused you," Avon said, smiling wolfishly, "pleases me no end."

Dayna was growing impatient with the polite game of civilized hostility. She said, "You've seen Orac. Now we want to see what we're getting."

Servalan waved. Two people appeared behind her, a stern blonde woman in a sleek black uniform and a balding, mousy man who looked furtively about as if seeking escape.

"Is that them?" Dayna asked Avon.

"Yes," Avon replied. 

"Here they are," Servalan said. "As promised. They are not too happy about this, you do realize. I am only their employer so I could not order them to accompany me, but they were kind enough to wish to help me recover my stolen property."

"What about what you stole from them - from us? What about the years you took from us?" cried Dayna.

"I do not know what lies Avon has told you, but I do assure you that I had nothing to do with your unfortunate lapses of memory. I merely took you in after your accident and gave you gainful employment. I admit I prefer hiring people with your 'condition' as I can be sure that such people are not spies sent by others jealous of my success, but to say that I, personally, caused your misfortune is a direct attack on my honor and good name."

"What could honor and good name mean to you? You have neither," Avon said.

"Enough, Avon," Tarrant broke in. "All we want is Vila and Soolin. Are you prepared to come with us and allow us to present our side of the story?" he asked, looking at the two standing beside Servalan. "If you don't believe us, we'll put you down on a neutral planet where Servalan can arrange passage for you back to Earth. All we ask is a chance to convince you of the truth. For that, Servalan will get Orac."

The blonde woman beside Servalan leaned forward, her blue eyes as cold and hard as chips of glacier. "It wasn't strictly part of my contract, but I did advise on security. I am obligated to recover any of my employer's property that I can." She turned expectantly to the man on the other side of Servalan.

Servalan was watching him, also. Under the intense gaze of both women, the man squirmed. "Er, um, well, I suppose I'll come too. You do promise to let me go afterwards?"

"If you still want to after we've explained, then, yes, Vila, you'll be free to go," Tarrant promised.

Avon stirred restlessly behind Tarrant. "Can we get on with it? I do have other things to do with my time."

"He doesn't sound too friendly," Vila commented, in a low voice to Soolin. It wasn't quite low enough.

"Bear that in mind, Vila," Avon said. "Dock, Tarrant."

Tarrant disliked Avon's autocratic manner, but kept his temper. "Orac, check Servalan's ship - is there anyone on board besides Servalan, Soolin and Vila?"

"No, there are only three life-forms present."

Tarrant nodded. "Docking initiated." 

There were muted thumps and metallic sounds transmitted through Vindicator's hull as the automated docking systems fumbled for and latched onto the pursuit ship's portal. Through it all, Tarrant stared at Servalan. The woman was altogether too pleased with herself. It was not the look of one settling for half a loaf. He cut communication with the pursuit ship, then asked Orac, "What's she planning, Orac? She has something up her sleeve."

"Oh, you noticed," Avon remarked dryly.

"I am unable to read human minds - for which I am exceedingly grateful. There is no information entered into any system accessible to me which would indicate any proposed action."

"I don't think we'll miss you at all, Orac," Tarrant said.

Avon left his console and strode over to Orac. He stared down at the box for several seconds before picking it up. "Orac has limitations, but it remains an extremely useful tool. I shall regret losing it to Servalan." He started toward the airlock with the computer. "Coming?" he said sharply.

Tarrant locked down the controls, then said to Dayna, "Are you sure I shouldn't keel-haul him just a little?"

"Never mind." Dayna smiled at Tarrant. "I know you're captain, you know you're captain, who cares what he thinks?"

Avon stood by the lock, staring through the clear portal at Vila and Soolin, his face expressionless. The indicator lights flickered through the equalizing pressure sequence, finishing as Dayna arrived. She reached for the door release, but Avon halted her with an upraised hand. "Wait. Have you forgotten that we are unarmed?" He touched the communicator panel beside the door. "Much as I hate to appear paranoid, would you mind leaving your weapons behind?"

Soolin looked sulky but unstrapped her gun, stepping back into the main body of the other ship to dispose of it. "Satisfied?" She held up her arms and rotated, displaying her form-fitting uniform's lack of weaponry.

Vila said, "I don't have any. Hate guns, nasty, noisy things."

"All right, Avon?" Tarrant asked, with a tolerant smile.

"Humoring me, are you?" Avon smiled back. "That's all right, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

This time when Dayna reached for the door, Avon did not interfere, although he did hold his breath with nervous anticipation. Which was fortunate. Servalan had joined the other two in the airlock. As the door opened she threw a smoke-emitting ovoid into Vindicator. 

"Gas!" Tarrant managed before he choked and collapsed beside Dayna. 

Avon dropped Orac. Still holding his breath, Avon folded. He hoped the gas was not absorbed through the skin.

Servalan stepped delicately over the prone bodies of her employees, one slender hand holding her gas mask firmly in place. She stopped beside Avon and knelt down to pick up Orac. Before she could gloat, Avon had pulled her down and, without regard for tender skin, ripped off her mask. He put it on himself and took a deep breath, holding the struggling woman against his chest with his free hand.

Servalan's struggle was brief. Avon was less careful about dropping her than he had been with Orac. "Orac! What is this gas? Is it lethal?"

"It is a derivative of Soma vapor. It is listed as a generally safe, swift-acting anesthetic. It is not used in medical practice because of the unpleasant after-effects, but it does no permanent damage."

"Good. Orac, put Vindicator's filtration system on maximum. Clear the Soma vapor from the air." Avon bent down to Servalan and placed his hands around her throat. "Killing you this way isn't sporting, I know. It won't be painful, either. Too bad." He tightened his grip.

"Avon. Release Servalan."

"Shut up, Orac." Avon's hands continued to slowly tighten.

"I may not permit you to harm Servalan."

"I'll reprogram you later, if you think you'll feel guilty about it."

"Avon, if you do not release Servalan, I will set Vindicator's engines on overload."

"What?" Avon looked up. "You would destroy yourself too, you know."

"I must obey my directives."

"Servalan would be dead, though. It may be worth it."

"Dayna, Soolin, Vila, Tarrant and yourself would also die. The equation is unbalanced."

"I knew I should have reprogrammed you sooner, Orac." Avon dropped Servalan to the deck. Unceremoniously, he shoved her back into the pursuit ship's airlock and shut the connection. He stood, shaking with reaction, then sighed. "Orac, can you disengage Vindicator from Servalan's ship, then get us away from here?"

"Certainly I can, although such menial tasks..."

""Yes, I know. Well, when Tarrant is awake he can do the piloting. For now, you do it. I am not in a good mood, Orac."

"Very well."

Avon lifted Dayna from the deck. He looked down at her serene face. "I hope this makes you happy. You and Tarrant had your lives and this ship. Why you should want to clutter up both with the rest of us is entirely beyond my comprehension." He stepped over Tarrant. "That must be most uncomfortable, Tarrant. It's a pity that I predict my back will give out after settling Dayna and Soolin in the medical unit."

***

Tarrant sat up, groggily. Even in his half-conscious state he was aware that there had been danger. He swung a fist at the shape looming over him, and missed. 

"Tarrant!"

Tarrant shook his head, and came awake. Avon was standing over him, holding the pilot down. "You're not Servalan," Tarrant said.

"Very astute observation." Avon let go of Tarrant's shoulders and sat down in a chair at Tarrant's bedside.

"What am I doing in the med-unit?" Tarrant got out the sentence between clenched teeth, each syllable reverberating through his skull. He held his head gingerly and groaned.

"I had an inconvenient attack of conscience."

"What?" Tarrant was still disoriented and following Avon's convoluted idea of conversation was a bit beyond him at the moment.

"You make me regret the effort I expended hauling your carcass here. Perhaps an hour or two lying in the corridor was just what you needed."

"Avon."

"Yes?"

Tarrant grabbed Avon by the collar, hauling the computer expert close. He spoke softly into Avon's startled face, "Avon, I have the grandfather of all headaches and I am severely tempted to give you one to match."

"Oh, you would like to know what happened?" Avon said, putting on a wide-eyed innocent look that made Tarrant suspicious. Nevertheless, Tarrant let go of Avon's collar.

Avon straightened his collar and cleared his throat. "Servalan released a sedative gas," he said. "The others are unharmed," he added quickly, aborting Tarrant's mad dash for the corridor. "They are resting in their quarters. Your breathing was slightly erratic, so I thought it prudent to keep you here. You will be gratified to know that you are the first to revive."

"And Servalan?"

"Well." Avon turned aside, eyes glittering, then looked back, features once more under tight control. "Orac insisted that she live. For the time being. There will be other opportunities. I have since reprogrammed Orac. While you were 'indisposed', the ship was very quiet."

"Missed me?" Tarrant stretched. His head still throbbed, but his elation over their victory was remarkably soothing. He even felt charitable toward Avon.

Avon stared at Tarrant, astonished. "However did you arrive at that absurd idea? I am not staying to listen to the ravings of a weakened mind. Go back to sleep, Tarrant." Avon paused at the doorway to lower the light level.

Tarrant grinned to himself. He could see that the future was not going to be dull. "Good night, Avon." 

[](http://www.flickr.com/photos/eclectic_house/8319243215/)


End file.
